"There will be that much wind," said Peter Walsh, "at the top of the tide. But what's the use? Don't I tell you, and don't you know yourself that the master isn't one to be making mistakes in a boat?"

"How would it be now if you was in her, you and the strange gentleman, and the master on sh.o.r.e, and you steering? Would she upset then, do you think?"

"It could be done, of course, but??"

"Nigh hand to one of the islands," said Sweeny, "in about four foot of water or maybe less. I'd be sorry if anything would happen the gentleman."

"I'd be sorry anything would happen myself. But it's easy talking. How am I to go in the boat when the master has sent down word that he's going himself?"

Sweeny took another gulp of whisky and again thought deeply. At the end of five minutes he handed the bottle to Peter Walsh.

"Take a sup yourself," he said.

Peter Walsh took a "sup," a very large "sup," with a sigh of appreciation. It had been very trying for him to watch Sweeny drinking whisky while he remained dry-lipped.

"Let you go down to the kitchen," said Sweeny, "and borrow the loan of my shot gun. There's cartridges in the drawer of the table beyond in the room. You can take two of them."

"If it's to shoot the master," said Peter Walsh, "I'll not do it. I've a respect for him ever since??"

"Talk sense. Do you think I want to have you hanged?"

"Hanged or drowned. The way you're talking it'll be both before I'm through with this work."

"When you have the gun," said Sweeny, "and the cartridges in it, you'll go round to the back yard where you were this minute and you'll fire two shots through this window, and mind what you're at, Peter Walsh, for I won't have every pane of gla.s.s in the back of the house broke, and I won't have the missus' hens killed. Do you think now you can hit this window from where you were standing in the yard?"

"Hit it! Barring the shot scatters terrible I'll put every grain of it into some part of you if you stay where you are this minute."

"I'll not be in this chair at the time," said Sweeny. "I'll be in the bed, and what shots come into the room will go over me with the way you'll be shooting. But any way I'll have the mattress and the blankets rolled up between me and harm. It'll be all the better if there's a few grains in the mattress."

"I don't know," said Peter Walsh, "that I'll be much nearer drowning the strange gentleman after I've shot you. But sure I'll do it if you like."

"When you have that done," said Sweeny, "and you'd better be quick about it?you'll go down to the barrack and tell Sergeant Rafferty that he's to come round here as quick as he can. The missus'll meet him at the door of the shop and she'll tell him what's happened."

"I suppose then you'll offer bail for me," said Peter Walsh, "for if you don't, no other one will, and it'll be hard for me to go out upsetting boats if they have me in gaol for murdering you."

"It's not that she'll tell him, but a kind of a distracted story. She'll have very little on her at the time. She has no more than an old night dress and a petticoat this minute. I'm sorry now she has the petticoat itself. If I'd known what would have to be I'd have kept it from her.

It doesn't be natural for a woman to be dressed up grand when a lot of murdering ruffians from behind the bog has been shooting her husband half the night."

"Bedam," said Peter Walsh, "is that the way it is?"

"It is that way. And I wouldn't wonder but there'll be questions asked about it in Parliament after."

"You'll be wanting the doctor," said Peter Walsh, "to be picking the shot out of you."

"As soon as ever you've got the sergeant," said Sweeny, "you'll go round for the doctor."

"And what'll he say when there's no shot in you?"

"Say! He'll say what I bid him? Ain't I Chairman of the Board of Guardians, and doesn't he owe me ten pounds and more this minute, shop debts. What would he say?

"He's a gentleman that likes a drop of whisky," said Peter Walsh.

"I'll waste no whisky on him. Where's the use when I can get what I want without?"

Peter Walsh meditated on the situation for a minute or two. Then the full splendour of the plan began to dawn on him.

"The master," he said, "will be taking down the depositions that you'll be making in the presence of the sergeant."

"He will," said Sweeny, "for there's no other magistrate in the place only myself and him, and its against the law for a magistrate to take down his own depositions and him maybe dying at the time."

"There'll be only myself then to take the strange gentleman to Inishbawn in the boat."

"And who's better fit to do it? Haven't you known the bay since you were a small slip of a boy?"

"I have surely."

"Is there a rock or a tide in it that isn't familiar to you?"

"There is not."

"And is there a man in Rosnacree that's your equal in the handling of a small boat?"

"Sorra the one."

"Then be off with you and get the gun the way I told you."

At half-past ten Sir Lucius and Lord Torrington drove into the town and pulled up opposite Brannigan's shop. The _Tortoise_ lay at her moorings, a sight which gratified Sir Lucius. After his experience the day before he was afraid that Peter Walsh might have beached the boat in order to execute some absolutely necessary repairs. He congratulated himself on having suggested to Sergeant Rafferty that one of the constables should keep an eye on her.

"There's the boat, Torrington," he said. "She's small, and there's a fresh breeze. But if you don't mind getting a bit wet she'll take us round the islands in the course of the day. If your daughter is anywhere about we'll see her."

Lord Torrington eyed the _Tortoise_. He would have preferred a larger boat, but he was a man of determination and courage.

"I don't care how wet I get," he said, "so long as I have the chance of speaking my mind to the scoundrel who has abducted my daughter."

"We'll take oilskins with us," said Sir Lucius, getting out of the trap as he spoke.

The police sergeant approached him.

"Well, Rafferty," said Sir Lucius, "what's the matter with you?"

"Have you any fresh news of my daughter?" said Lord Torrington.

"I have not, my Lord. Barring what Professor Wilder told me I know no more. There was a lady belonging to his party out on the bay looking out for sponges and she came across??"

"You told us all that yesterday," said Sir Lucius. "What's the matter with you now?"

"What they say," said the sergeant cautiously, "is that it's murder."

"Murder! Good heavens! Who's dead?"